A moment out of time
by planet p
Summary: Little Miss Parker has a foreshadowing experience, but which reveals very little. Or does it?


**A moment out of time **by planet p

**Disclaimer** I don't own _the Pretender_ or any of its characters

* * *

_1965_

A small crease came across the little girl's forehead, indicating a frown. A heavy sigh proceeded in hasty succession and the little girl rolled her blue eyes, blowing up her fringe in an unspoken statement of annoyance at her apparent boredom. Lifting her stuffed bunny rabbit up to her face, she shook her head, sharply cut hair flying every which way. "Whatever shall we do, Winston?"

Winston held her gaze, unblinking beady black eyes watching her own without comprehension.

The little girl huffed, folding her arms crossly. "Hopscotch? It's ever so mind-numbing, don't you think! Hop one, hop two, hop three, and now hop four and five at the same time. I suppose you would find that exciting, Winston. You are a bunny after all, and the best thing bunnies like to do is to hop. But I'm not a bunny! And besides, there are no squares! You simply cannot play hopscotch without squares!"

Winston hung from his wrist, slowly swinging back and forth, his face cast at a downward angle to the white marble wall.

The little girl sniffed and stomped off around the corner to her left.

* * *

The little girl paused, alarmed, and clutched Winston to her chest in a defensive manner, her wide eyes fixed on the man coming toward her, talking to himself.

"Pardon?" He shook his head, frowning slightly, holding a hand to the left side of his head. "Say again. I can't- What are you-? Sorry, you're breaking up. I really can't make out a word you're saying. No. What? The reception must be- The reception- Hello?" Sighing, he returned his attention to his paperwork.

The little girl took a restless step backward, her panic mounting.

She remembered her daddy had once said she shouldn't talk to Winston because Winston wasn't real and only a stuffed toy, he said only crazy people talked to themselves, and nobody wanted to be friends with a crazy person because crazy people were bad and scared other people.

The crazy man looked up suddenly, tilting his head at a slight angle.

The little girl hugged Winston closer to her chest, her gaze fixed determinately with the man's.

"Hello."

The little girl remained silent.

The man smiled, gazing at her curiously. Kneeling down in front of her, he placed his paperwork on the floor beside him and reached for her shoulders.

The little girl stumbled back skittishly.

"Oh hey, no, it's okay, darl, I ain't gonna hurt cha," he explained in an amicable voice.

The little girl shook her head. "I'm not allowed to talk to strangers," she mumbled in a wavering voice.

The man frowned. "Is that right?"

The little girl nodded in confirmation, her expression firm, apparently cross with herself for allowing her voice to wobble.

The man sighed and held out his hand. The little girl winced. "My name is Lyle. What's your name?"

Sniffing, the little girl took his hand. "Marta," she replied in a small voice.

Lyle smiled disturbingly. "You see, Mary, not strangers anymore."

Marta frowned. "Marta," she corrected, a hint of scowl about her voice now.

Lyle leant in toward her a little. "I'm sorry, did you say 'Marilyn'? I do apologise, Mari-"

"MARTA!" the little girl roared.

Lyle smacked a hand to his head and laughed, shaking his head. "Marta?"

Marta growled. "Yes!"

Rolling his eyes at his obvious stupidity, he sighed. "Old age," he explained, waving a hand about the side of his head.

Marta scowled, crossing her arms angrily. She didn't much care for his excuse.

Looking back to Marta, he scruffed her hair up in a most annoying fashion, causing the little girl to take a good step back. His gaze landed on the bunny and he frowned slightly, still smiling. "Oh hey, who's this?" Reaching for one of the bunny's arms, he shook its free hand. "Hewwo, bunny wabbit."

Marta glared, wrenching her stuffed rabbit away from the man possessively. "Winston. And Winston doesn't like crazy people!"

Lyle looked hurt. "Crazy?"

Marta sniffed, nodding.

Lyle pouted sadly. "Here's me thinking we were friends, Not-Marilyn. Was I wrong?"

Marta glowered horribly. "Crazy people don't have friends. They're just crazy," she replied matter-of-factly.

"'S at a fact?"

Marta blinked, unsure how to reply.

Lyle sighed, leaning across to collect up his paperwork before getting to his feet once more. "Marty, Marty, Marty…"

Marta held her ground.

"Didn't you know, craziness catches?"

Marta screamed and dashed away up the hall, leaving Lyle to his ridiculous giggling.

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_I'm sorry, that was weird, I know. Also, if you weren't sure who exactly she was, Marta was Miss Parker. Weird, weird fic._


End file.
